


Evident

by Laylah



Series: Multiply [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Altered Mental States, Come Inflation, F/M, Other: See Story Notes, Post-Game, Prostate Milking, Romance, body alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You aren't denying the guilt part," she says happily.</p><p>You shrug. This was the way you really liked her, alert and predatory, delighted with life and always a little weird. "You could find anybody guilty of something." </p><p>"That," Terezi declares, "is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evident

**Author's Note:**

> Potential gender dysphoria heads up! Weird endgame mechanics have altered Dave's junk here, and he starts the story pretty uncomfortable with that. The equally sketchy compulsion mechanic that's been a theme in this series makes him stop freaking out; ymmv on whether that makes it more or less comfortable to read.

TG: ok egbert so i need to ask you an important question  
TG: like pretend youre the president and im asking if we can push the big red button  
TG: that level of important  
EB: got it, dave  
EB: the most important of important questions  
EB: the fate of nations hangs in the balance!  
TG: there you go  
TG: youve grasped the seriousness of the issue  
TG: the sticky uncomfortable need to be certain of the facts  
TG: even when the facts are warm and viscous and dripping from places they never should have touched  
EB: um  
TG: so right the question  
TG: since we got back to earth  
TG: have you noticed anything weird in the pants department  
EB: um.  
TG: its a yes or no question  
TG: um is not a permitted answer  
TG: the examiner tosses that answer right back out  
TG: you fail unless you can be more decisive  
TG: your junk is weird on earth the reboot true or false  
EB: ok as much as it's flattering to have you interested in my mighty hammer  
EB: and it is TOTALLY flattering, ok  
EB: i think you should know this isn't going to get you anywhere!  
TG: welp  
TG: thanks for absolutely nothing  
TG: i guess ill just have to go plumb the depths of this mystery with no assistance  
EB: dave, if you're actually having a problem, you know i'll help you!  
EB: but not if you're just being a cryptic weirdo.  
TG: no its cool  
TG: everythings cool  
TG: the coolest

It is not, in fact, cool.

It is warm and squishy and _bloated_ , which is possibly as far from cool as it is possible to be. You don't know if you'll be able to button your pants, assuming you can find them, and assuming they're still intact. Which, actually, is a pretty big set of assumptions. Christ, you look like a caramel factory died a messy death between your thighs. The way you look is the least of your worries.

You're trying to work up the nerve to actually touch the spot that currently heads up the worry list. (You do not have a worry list. Fuck.) It's cool, you're cool, you're one of the heroes of the multiverse, you are not going to let a little thing like a surprise orifice throw you off your game. You reach down.

Your dick is still normal, _thank god_. Your balls have slime on them but they are otherwise fine. Behind them, in what ought to be the sweaty no-man's-land of taint, you encounter the deep weird. There's... right now it feels like there's a seam, a pucker tightly sealed shut. It's tender, and also generously coated in slime, and it doesn't want to give when you press on it. Which is pretty damn different, because only half an hour ago—

"Coolkid!" You jump, and scramble for sheets or something to cover yourself with, because Terezi will announce herself but— "I'm coming in!"

But she doesn't ask permission.

"That's cool, Rez, just interrupt a guy's serious meditations. My one shot at enlightenment and now it's gone, vanished into the ether of failed timelines because some psycho alien babe couldn't stay away."

"The world weeps at this tragedy," Terezi says, sounding not at all sorry. "Do you know who I ran into just now?"

"The pope," you say, because you're an asshole.

Terezi shakes her head. "Good try! But I will not be tricked into asking you what a pope is, thereby allowing you to completely derail this line of questioning."

"Your loss," you say solemnly. "I was going to tell you about the hats and everything." You are remarkably chill for a guy facing his still-cute alien ex with nothing but a sheet between your junk and her scrutiny. You consider, briefly, that where Terezi is concerned the terms _scrutiny_ and _tongue_ are often interchangeable. This does not help you remain remarkably chill.

"Later," she says, which you momentarily take as an answer to your train of thought instead of your bullshit mouth noises. "First you will tell me why Mr. Nitram was so convinced he had broken you when I encountered him downstairs."

" _Broken_ me?" You'd do a better job of sounding indignant if you were less squeaky. "That kid couldn't break a toothpick."

Terezi grins, slinking closer with her cane held unnervingly at the ready. "You smell like guilt and chocolate sauce, and I _will_ have the story out of you." 

"Nope, rejected. I'd buy caramel. Honey, sure. I'd even believe peanut butter if you needed to go for something weird and offputting. But there's no way this looks like chocolate sauce."

Her grin gets bigger. She's close enough to lean over you, and that's the kind of threat that puts your junk on standby, ready to deploy. "You aren't denying the guilt part," she says happily.

You shrug. This was the way you really liked her, alert and predatory, delighted with life and always a little weird. "You could find anybody guilty of something." 

"That," Terezi declares, "is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me."

"I don't know what else you were expecting, when it's all whipped cream and caramel over here." Fuck, no, stop, abort, this is why the mouth is supposed to clear plans with the brain before execution.

Terezi purrs, and that means trouble, and that kind of trouble makes the hair at your nape prickle. "Show me."

You stop yourself as fast as you can, with the sheet already halfway pulled back. "Jesus, Rez, do you have no respect at all for a guy's privacy?" You're fighting the stupid part of your brain right now, the part that says _yes yes yes let her at your junk, do whatever she wants_. You're full of troll come and you liked getting that way and you feel A LITTLE PSYCHOLOGICALLY COMPROMISED right now.

"Nope!" Terezi says. "None at all." The head of her cane flicks out and catches the edge of the sheet, twitching it out of your limp noodle fingers. _Hnnnnngh_ , goes the stupid part of your brain.

She takes a slow, deep breath, her lips parted just enough for her tongue to rest on the bottom one. It's like staring, in her weirdo smell-o-vision, and despite all the reasons you know better your dick twitches.

When she stretches out the cane again, you have just enough self-preservation left to catch her hand before she can poke you with it anywhere you'll regret. Whoops. Her skin is smooth and dry and warm and your pulse speeds up as you realize how badly you want to just pull her down on top of you.

Terezi has gone very, very still. "Dave," she says. "Are you interfering with an official investigation?"

Your dick aches. Your unmentionables flutter. "What's the punishment for that?"

She frowns as if she has to think about that one. "Hard labor," she says. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from snickering. "This is... getting weird, isn't it?"

"Babe, it's been weird since before you walked in the door," you say, which is the truth and nothing but the truth.

"No, I mean." She shakes her head as she slowly lowers herself down, perching at the edge of the bed, one knee landing carefully to either side of your thigh. "With us. After everything."

You swallow hard. You'd swear you can smell her, spicy like cinnamon red-hots would be in a just world. "That was in another universe," you say, as suave as you can make it.

"I was sorry when you broke up with me," she says, and you want to go back in time to punch yourself in the dick. "But I thought I was over it."

You open your mouth to say something douchey like _yeah turns out im pretty irreplaceable_ and instead what comes out is, "I want you so bad."

Fuck.

She drops her cane and stretches out over you, hands planted beside your shoulders, alien muscles flexing to lower her down so she can nestle against your throat and breathe in a generous snoutful of eau de Dave. The helpless breathy whining noise is coming from you. She licks a stripe up your neck, tasting your sweat, and you are done. Ruined. Your legs go limp and wobbly and your weird new business pulses like it's hungry.

"Rez, oh my god," you say. Your hips rock up against her for friction and it doesn't even matter that her jeans are rough cloth, your dick is thrilled. Your stupid brain is calling the shots and you just want her to stuff her bulge up your unmentionables because it would be better, right, Tavros is kind of an entertaining nerd but _Terezi_.

You get your hands on the button of her jeans and your fingers are shaky and useless but goddamn it come on, you fought your way out the far end of the game, you can do this. The prize in there is totally worth scraping together what's left of your concentration.

Ugh, _yes_ , button and zipper vanquished, boxers no serious issue, and that's her bulge thick and heavy in your hand. You squeeze, and she moans. Your new bits do the "feed me, Seymour" pulse again.

Your inner voice of reason usually sounds like either your Bro ("seriously, dude, this is what you're doing now?") or Rose ("I have to assume you aren't considering the consequences of your actions") and right now it sounds like dead air on the radio. Stupid brain has taken the wheel. "Fuck, yes, lemme feel that love muscle flex, get in here and lay down the law," and you will admit that doesn't entirely make sense but that doesn't stop her from biting your throat and making you drop your head back in surrender.

"Thought you didn't want my bulge," she says, her voice shaky, her hips rocking anyway.

You shake your head. "Different universe, remember? I've changed." You brace your heels against the edge of the mattress so you can lift your hips to meet her. Her bulge touches your whatnot and you bite your lip to keep from begging, because you want your pride to grow back someday.

"Oh," she breathes as she gets the tip of it in you. "Oh, Dave." She sounds so stunned, so reverent, you abruptly have something in your eye. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Yeah," you say, almost as quiet, like this is a moment you don't dare scare off. You'd swear you can feel your heartbeat around her bulge and you are going to do your damnedest not to make that a cheesy ~significant~ thing but you don't give yourself good odds. No joke, it feels like this is what has been missing from your happy ending ever since you all woke up here. You're getting high on Terezi Pyrope's sex juice, or maybe finding enlightenment, or maybe there's no actual difference.

You wrap your arms around her shoulders and hold on, and she rocks you like a hurricane. Or a volcano, maybe, why didn't somebody write a shitty eighties song about that? She chirps and croons in your ear, nuzzling your neck in a way that kind of tickles but you don't care because it's so fucking adorable. She sounds _happy_ , and it's breaking you. There have been times over the last few years when you would have given your left nut just to make her feel not-shitty for a while, and now she's happy again, inside you.

Inside you in a way that shouldn't be possible, and you don't care. Oozing technicolor joy syrup into your impossibility, and you don't care. Filling up space that should not exist, somewhere between your hips, and you. do. not. care. She can fill you to bursting if she wants. All the empty spaces you have, all the soft plasticity around your organs, every goddamn cell in your body marked as hers. You want to find more ways to curl up around her, envelop her, make her the center of your world. You might be saying some of this shit out loud.

"Dave," she's saying in return, "Dave," like it's a goddamn mantra, and then, "My Dave," and you're ruined.

"Yes," you say, "oh my god, Terezi, yes, I'm yours." Your skin feels stretched tight, convex instead of concave between your hipbones, your dick practically drumming against it when her shifting makes you squirm. The swelling inside you puts pressure on a lot of hot spots you've only ever encountered in ironic yaois before, and it feels kind of like you can't come and kind of like you already are, weird sensitivity that you have no idea what to do with.

Fuck, you sort of are, not in big spurts or anything but just dribbling a little more baby batter every time her bulge rubs you just right. It's a hundred tiny orgasms instead of one big one, which is both the most amazing and the most terrible thing ever. You are so fucked up right now, pumped full of come and drooling out of your dick and panting like a dog. You are so fucked up and it's _perfect_.

You run out of juice before she does, still having those weird mini-orgasm feelings but dry, the entire contents of your balls smeared across your swollen stomach. She's slowing down, though, crooning softly as she tops you off. Eventually her bulge isn't really doing anything anymore, and she's just holding herself propped above you and shaking. It's a beautiful moment, apart from how you're both sweat-sticky and gross, and your spooge is making a break for freedom down your side.

Hell with it. You roll to one side, tipping her over with you, and she huffs a silent laugh as she hits the mattress. Your hips are not really designed for this wrap-thighs-around-someone thing but they're going to have to deal, because you're not letting go.

"So," Terezi says.

You kiss her. "Come on, there should totally be more afterglow here before we move on to the awkward conversation." You kiss her again.

She kisses you back for a minute, then gives your lip a little warning bite and pulls back. "Awkward feelings later, but investigation now. I thought you said you didn't have a nook."

"Which was one hundred percent straight-up truth. Humans are either-or. Were. Maybe usually still are? I don't even know. It's not like there were patch notes released with the upgrade or anything." This would have bothered you before the game. Hell, this would have bothered you _yesterday_ , and it was still kind of weird half an hour ago. But now even the weird stretch is nice.

"So it happened in the reboot process?"

You yawn, then reach for a pillow to pull it over where it will do you some good. "Seems that way. Don't crazy space lawyers ever get tired? The case will still be there after a nap."

"Mmm." She honest to fuck _rubs noses_ with you, and it's so cute you could die. "I suppose this isn't quite as urgent as investigating a murder."

"Yeah, see?" You both squirm a little, trying to figure out where all of your arms go. "Justice power nap time." Her bulge slips out of you, but that's okay for now. She's with you and in you and holding you and everything's going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> EB: hey dave?  
> EB: what kind of weird were you talking about?
> 
> \-- turntechGodhead [TG] is an idle chum! --


End file.
